Thursday, March 31, 2011

Social Diseases

I have a routine:

I wake up. I say, "Fuck!" I rub my scalp and curse myself for the beers. I rub my gut and curse myself for the helpings. And then I roll over and pick up my cellphone and I check my text messages and emails. I roll out of bed. I check my diabetic foot to see if it's red, hot, or swollen. And then I slide my feet into slippers. I begin my Morning Offering Prayer and I scratch my ass and I walk over and turn on my laptop. I walk down the stairs for coffee. I return and sit and read the morning news. I check Facebook. I check Twitter. I check my bank accounts. And then I grab clean clothes and I take my shower. I return to begin answering emails.
I spend my day with my cellphone in my fist; I check it at every stoplight. I check it while waiting in the checkout line. I check it between sips in a bar, between bites in a restaurant, between comments in a conversation. I text. I type.

I spend my day with my forearms on the table edge and my fingers on the keys. I write. I check my emails. I check Facebook. I check Twitter. I update. I twit. I type.
I lay me down to sleep with my cellphone in my hand. I check my emails. I check my texts. I check Facebook. I check Twitter. And I close my eyes and curse the beers and I rub my gut and curse myself for the helpings. I offer an Act of Contrition. I sleep.

I follow the routine every day. It doesn't change. The geography does. I don't always sleep at home.
I've realized that my Facebook account has become my address book, my email account, my photo album, my Ipod, my evites & invites, and my occasional greeting cards.

Twitter is just ass. It serves no purpose. And famous tweets are pulling aside the curtains of celebrity. It takes a team to make a talent. Rarely are celebrity tweets a collaborative effort. Creativity is as absent from celebrity tweets as authentic vocals are from Britney Spears' throat. Celebrity tweets are empty words or paid product placements. Hell, all tweets are product placements. An author tries to sell a book. A singer tries to sell a song. A comedian tries to sell a show. An actor tries to sell himself. And everyone is disappointed. No one actually buys anything. Your friends will support you with words; they will not buy your stuff.
I used to send greeting cards. I used to know the telephone numbers of my friends. I used to invite people in person or with a physical reminder. I used to write letters but let's not be extreme. Emails rule. I used to offer Show & Tell with equity. Now I show more and send truncated texts.

I'm breaking my habits. I'm turning off the social networking for the month of April. No Facebook. I'm removing the Facebook app from my phone. No Twitter. My blog is on an automatic feed to both sites but I won't sign on to them.
Now I can't eliminate the internet. I'm self-employed. I must email. I'll continue to Skype with my sister. I might blog. But I don't need to socialize on the internet. My three best friends do not Facebook or Twitter. If you need me, call me. You may see me on the closing of April 30. Or, you may not.